


more than you could ever know

by elizaham8957



Series: Twelve Days of Stydia Christmas 2017 [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Stiles and Lydia are SO in love with each other, is that a category? I can't remember, it's slowly driving all the werewolves who can smell their emotions crazy, love/comfort, pre 6a, they will not admit it to anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 21:25:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13085679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: “We need to do something about Stiles and Lydia,” Malia said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Ever since we got her out of Eichen, the smell of their lovesickness has been even worse. It’s annoying.”“I know,” Scott said, giving her a look. “But we can’t just tell them they’re in love with each other because we can smell it. That’s an invasion of privacy.” Malia rolled her eyes, as if Scott’s moral code bored her.“Well, we have to do something,” Malia insisted. “Something to make them realize they’re in love with each other. The scent around them is nauseating.”“What do you want to do?” Scott asked, unsure what Malia wanted him to say. She pulled a face, resting her hands on her hips.“Lock them in a room together and don’t let them out until they talk about their feelings.”“We are not doing that.”





	more than you could ever know

**Author's Note:**

> Happy day 7 of the Twelve Days of Stydia Christmas, and sorry this is so late! I had to go pick up my friend from the airport and we decided making a pit stop for McFlurries on the way back was DEFINITELY necessary. 
> 
> This takes place between 5b and 6a, because, again, I think there's a Christmas in between that break? Also we're ignoring canon slightly alright my girl Kira is still here for the time being. 
> 
> Complete creds for Lydia's present for Stiles goes to Allison (im2old4thisotp). The hardest part of writing this series was coming up with like EIGHT different sets of presents for these two to get each other, seriously. 
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think! I'm stilesssolo on tumblr and twitter too if you wanna chat :)
> 
> Title's from All I Want For Christmas Is You. Enjoy!

It had actually been Malia’s idea. 

Well, not the  _ whole  _ thing. Kira was the one who wanted to do a Secret Santa. It had been Malia, though, who had pulled Scott aside after the pack meeting, a determined look on her face. 

“We need to do something about Stiles and Lydia,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Ever since we got her out of Eichen, the smell of their lovesickness has been even  _ worse.  _ It’s  _ annoying.”  _

“I know,” Scott said, giving her a look. “But we can’t just tell them they’re in love with each other because we can smell it. That’s an invasion of privacy.” Malia rolled her eyes, as if Scott’s moral code bored her. 

“Well, we have to do  _ something,”  _ Malia insisted. “Something to make them realize they’re in love with each other. The scent around them is  _ nauseating.”  _

“What do you want to do?” Scott asked, unsure what Malia wanted him to say. She pulled a face, resting her hands on her hips. 

“Lock them in a room together and don’t let them out until they talk about their feelings.” 

“We are  _ not  _ doing that.” 

“I don’t know, Scott!  _ Something!" _

“Something other than locking them in any confined space together.” 

“Oh, I know,” Malia said, eyes widening. “Rig this Secret Santa thing Kira wants to do. They’ll get each other, buy each other stupidly meaningful presents, realize they’re in love, and we won’t have to smell them  _ pining  _ anymore.” 

Scott paused, considering. He thought back to Lydia’s birthday party sophomore year, the  _ massive  _ amounts of presents Stiles had gotten for her. Because he was so determined to get her something  _ perfect. _

Knowing Stiles, Malia’s plan might actually  _ work. _

“Alright,” Scott agreed, and Malia’s eyes widened, as if she hadn’t actually thought Scott would agree. 

“Really?” she asked, brows raised. “We’re doing it?” 

“Yeah,” Scott confirmed, nodding his head. “Let’s do it.” 

Besides— he was beyond sick of their lovesick scent too. 

***

Lydia still wasn’t completely sure  _ why  _ they were doing a Secret Santa. 

Generally for Christmas, they all just piled into the McCalls’ living room, watching Christmas movies and getting drunk on cheap champagne. But this year, Kira had proposed a Secret Santa, and before Lydia knew what was happening, the whole pack was drawing names. 

Somehow, she thought she should have guessed that she would end up getting Stiles. 

There was still a little part of her that thought this present might be  _ too  _ personal, but it was too late— she’d already visited Melissa earlier in the week, gratefully accepting any photos that she had stashed away of Stiles and his mom, and now she was ringing the Stilinskis’ doorbell, perfectly aware that Stiles was currently playing video games at Scott’s house. 

“Hi, Lydia,” the Sheriff greeted her, ushering her inside. “I got all the photos you asked for.” 

“Thank you so much, really,” Lydia said, following him to the kitchen. He had a box of old photos out, the lid still covered in a layer of dust, the only clean spots fingerprints from when he’d pulled it off the box. 

“Of course,” the Sheriff said, handing her a stack of photos. The top one had to be Stiles when he was only three or four, wrapped up in his mom’s arms, the two of them grinning on the beach, Stiles’s hair almost blonde in the summer sun. Claudia Stilinski’s eyes shined with happiness, and it was such a beautiful photo, but— it still broke Lydia’s heart that she never got to see her son grow up. 

“When is this from?” Lydia asked, her voice soft. The Sheriff sighed, looking at the photo. 

“Summer of ‘98 or ‘99, I think,” he said, voice low. “That was the first time we ever took Stiles to the beach. We rented a house right on the beach for a week. It was impossible to get Stiles out of the water at the end of the day,” the Sheriff added, smiling faintly. “Claudia had to drag him back to the house every single time.”

Lydia smiled, making note of the Sheriff’s comments, filing them away in her brain. She flipped through the photos, one by one— photos of Stiles and his mom in the backyard, curled together on the couch, one of the two of them at Christmas time. She flipped past a photo of Scott and Stiles, Melissa and Claudia behind them, at their Kindergarten graduation, a crooked cap perched on Stiles’s head, his grin so wide that Lydia couldn’t help but smile affectionately at the photo. She picked it up, putting it on the back of the stack, looking at the next photo in the pile— Stiles and his mom in a pumpkin patch, grinning next to the  _ largest  _ pumpkin Lydia had ever seen. 

“What was happening here?” Lydia asked, immediately regretting her words when the sheriff froze up. “Sorry,” she added automatically. “I didn’t mean to— you don’t have to tell me,” she said, voice quiet. “I just…” she trailed off, unsure how to finish. She just wanted to…  _ what?  _ Learn more about Stiles, because she hadn’t been a part of his life at this point. And she wanted to know everything she could about him, this boy that she was slowly but surely falling more and more in love with every day. 

Not that she had  _ dared  _ admit that to anyone but herself. 

“No, it’s okay,” the Sheriff told her, shaking his head. “It’s still hard to talk about. But Melissa told me what you’re doing with these, and I think it’s really sweet. Stiles is going to love it.” He grinned at Lydia briefly, the pain in his eyes dissipating a little bit, before turning back to the photo in her hand. “This was right before Halloween— Stiles said he wanted to get the biggest pumpkin they had, so he could fit every single Star Wars character on it. Claudia had to talk him down from the show pumpkin they had that was bigger than  _ him  _ to this one.” Lydia flipped to the next photo, smiling at the picture of Stiles and his mom beside the same pumpkin, an indistinguishable blob now carved into it. “I think that was supposed to be Han Solo,” the Sheriff said, chuckling. 

They flipped through the rest of the photos, the Sheriff adding stories or memories where he could remember them, Lydia writing down everything he said. At the end of the stack was a photo of Stiles and his mom on what had to be the first day of school— Stiles’s Star Wars backpack was almost bigger than him.

“That was the first day of third grade,” the Sheriff added, looking at the photo. He laughed before continuing. “He came home from school that day and wouldn’t talk about anything but  _ you.”  _

Lydia felt her cheeks heat up, her heart speed up a little bit at the Sheriff’s words. But he had already flipped to the last photo— Stiles and his mom in matching Christmas pajamas, sitting next to a beautifully decorated tree. 

“That was her last Christmas,” the Sheriff said, his voice low. “About a month later she went to the hospital for good.” 

“I’m sorry,” Lydia whispered, unsure what else could be said. They both just stayed silent a minute, the Sheriff’s eyes fixed on the photo still in his hands. 

“God, this still feels like it was yesterday,” the Sheriff said, more to himself than to Lydia. “It still hurts like hell.” Lydia paused, not sure what to say. “But I’m glad you’re doing this. Stiles is going to love it.” The Sheriff looked back at her, his expression soft, and Lydia smiled, slightly. 

“I really appreciate you telling me about all these,” she said, straightening the stack of photos in front of her, just to have something to do with her hands. “I know it can’t be easy.” 

“It feels like it should be, at this point,” the Sheriff confessed. “But it’s not. We both still miss her so much.” He met Lydia’s eyes again, his smile slight. “You remind me a lot of her, Lydia.” 

Lydia froze. “Really?” she asked. The Sheriff nodded, looking at her fondly. 

“Yeah. You’re smart as a whip, just like she was. You don’t take no for an answer. And you always keep fighting.” He smiled again, soft and slight. “I’m glad Stiles has you.” 

Lydia’s heart sped up, her cheeks immediately turning red. “Not like  _ that,”  _ the Sheriff clarified, clearly sensing her panic. “I just meant— he cares a lot about you. I’m just glad you care so much about him too.” 

“Of course,” Lydia said, because regardless of her ever-growing feelings, caring about Stiles was almost second nature to her. “He’s my best friend,” she added, because it was the truth. 

The Sheriff glanced at the clock, taking in the time. “Speaking of, he’s supposed to be home soon.”

“Yeah, I should go,” Lydia said, standing up, tucking the photos into her purse. “Thank you again, so much.” 

“Of course,” the Sheriff said, his smile warm again. “Merry Christmas, Lydia.” 

She smiled back at him. “Merry Christmas.” 

***

It wasn’t until she was standing on Scott’s doorstep that she realized this gift was a  _ terrible  _ idea. 

He was immediately going to be able to see right through her, she realized, because this gift was  _ way  _ too meaningful. She should have just gotten him the Star Wars box set, or something much less personal. 

Well, she reasoned, as Scott pulled open the door, grinning at her, it was too late now. And he  _ did  _ already have the Star Wars box set. 

“Merry Christmas!” Scott said in lieu of greeting, ushering her inside. Everyone else was already in the living room, their Secret Santa presents piled under the McCalls’ tree, and Lydia froze when she saw Stiles, laughing at something Kira said, wearing a ridiculous Darth Vader Christmas sweater. She tugged at the hem of her own sweater nervously (wearing an ugly Christmas sweater to the party was a rule she had given into long ago), willing her heartbeat to stay calm, because even if she knew Scott wouldn’t say anything, she couldn’t speak for the other supernatural creatures in the house. 

“Presents go under the tree, and there’s pizza and drinks in the kitchen,” Scott told her. “We’re gonna pick Christmas movies and start the marathon.”

Lydia was okay for the first and second movies— she’d placed her present under the tree, blocking it from her mind, because if she let herself worry about Stiles’s reaction she would never be able to get her heartbeat under control again. She ended up seated between Malia and Stiles, somehow, on the couch. Malia offered her some of her popcorn as Liam started the movie, and Lydia accepted it, grateful for the distraction from the boy next to her. 

She made it through the movies, sharing Malia’s popcorn, steadfastly ignoring Scott and Kira cuddling in the armchair across from them and the buzzing feeling in her body from being so close to Stiles again. There was that same awkward, tension-filled feeling between them that had permeated the air at the Sheriff’s station last month. It occurred to her she probably hadn’t physically been this close to Stiles since she had been lying on the cold metal table in Deaton’s clinic, broken glass from her scream scattered everywhere, as Stiles cradled her head in his hand, her other hand clutching his like a lifeline as he looked at her like the entire universe was in front of him. 

The second movie ended, and Lydia could feel dread filling her stomach as Scott bounded over to the tree, sifting through presents. Her heart pounded as he began doling them out, barely able to focus on anything but the thin, rectangular package that had Stiles’s name written on the tag in her neat print. 

“Stiles, here you go,” Scott said, forking over his present. Stiles picked it up, brow furrowing, before recognizing her handwriting on the tag and shooting her a grin. Lydia tried to smile back, tried to act like everything was normal before he opened the present and saw right through her, figured out  _ exactly  _ how she felt about him. 

She barely even registered that Scott was trying to hand her a present until Malia nudged her with her elbow. 

“Oh,” she said, accepting the gift from Scott. She studied it— it was two boxes, actually, one much smaller and stacked on top of the other. The present was heavy, but it was also wrapped in Star Wars wrapping paper, and she recognized the messy scrawl on the tag. Before she could stop herself, she looked over at him again, meeting his eyes, and Lydia could see the same exact expression that had just been on her face mirrored on his— like he was suddenly scared he was giving too much away. 

“Did we really get each  _ other?”  _ she asked, just to break the tension. Stiles relaxed a little, his posture loosening, as he grinned slightly, shrugging. 

“I guess so,” he said. “Uh, you first.” 

Lydia turned back to the present in her lap, untying the ribbon keeping the two boxes together, unwrapping the smaller one. She gently plucked the lid off the box, folding back the tissue paper to reveal two tickets. 

“Oh my god,” she said, reading what they were for. “Stiles. You  _ didn’t.”  _

“Oh, but I did,” he said, grinning at her. “I didn’t even know that they  _ sold  _ tickets for academic talks.” 

“This is for the talk next month that Maryam Mirzakhani is giving on the Riemann Hypothesis,” Lydia said, still a little shell shocked. 

“Yeah,” Stiles replied, nodding. “You said a while ago how much you wanted to go.” 

“And you’re coming with me?” Lydia asked, looking again at the pair of tickets. 

He just nodded, suddenly looking nervous again. “If you want me to, I mean,” he added.

“Of course I want you to,” Lydia replied automatically. She shot him a look. “You won’t be bored? Do you know anything about zeta functions? Non-trivial zeros?” 

He shrugged again. “I figured you could probably give me a crash course on the way to Stanford.” 

She nodded, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Thank you,” she said. “Seriously.” 

“Hey, that’s not all of it,” he said, gesturing to the other box. 

“You didn’t have to,” Lydia said, already peeling back the paper. “The tickets are  _ more  _ than enough.” 

He didn’t respond, just waited for her to tear off the wrapping paper. She did, revealing an old, battered book, its pages yellowing with age, its leather binding a little cracked.

“What is this?” she asked Stiles, voice quiet. He swallowed, his eyes darting from the book to her. 

“It’s about banshees,” Stiles said, and she froze. “I know there’s not a lot of information in the bestiary on them, and I found this guy who sells old books like this— and he knows what he’s talking about; I checked. But he said most of the information in this is really accurate.” Lydia looked up from the faded cover, meeting Stiles’s eyes, her heart pounding. “I know you’re still trying to figure out how to control your powers,” he said, voice impossibly soft. “And I know you  _ will  _ figure it out, because you always do. But I thought that maybe this would help.” 

Lydia found she couldn’t speak, her heart hammering in her chest. The expression on Stiles’s face was so hesitant, so soft, and she just— she couldn’t believe how  _ thoughtful  _ these gifts were. Except she could, because this was Stiles, and he was the one person who had always seen her, even when she hadn’t wanted to be seen. 

“Thank you,” she said, voice barely a whisper. “Seriously, Stiles. This is… this is incredible.” 

He shook his head noncommittally, like it was nothing. “I’m glad you like it,” he offered instead, his smile still soft and hesitant. 

“Open yours,” Lydia said, no longer nervous about his reaction. He did, tearing the paper off the box, throwing aside the tissue paper to reveal the photo album she’d put together for him. 

“That’s… my mom,” he said, voice catching, as he pulled the album from the box, staring at the photo on the front. 

“Yeah,” Lydia said, still clutching her new book in her hands. “Open it.” 

Stiles did, his eyes going wide at what was inside. He flipped through the pages silently, reading the words written there hungrily. The pages were filled with the photos the Sheriff and Melissa had given her, memories for each photo written out neatly next to them, along with the date. 

Stiles stopped at the picture of him and his mom with his carved pumpkin, his fingers stroking the photo reverently. “I don’t even remember this,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “My dad never talks about her anymore. Hurts too much, I think.” He glanced away from the page, meeting her eyes, and she could see there were almost tears in his.  _ “Lydia,”  _ he said, and her heart sped up, hearing him say her name like that. “This is incredible.  _ Thank  _ you.” 

“It’s nothing,” she said, shrugging, but Stiles shook his head vehemently. 

“No, this is not nothing,” he said, voice certain. “This is amazing. Thank you so much.” 

She just smiled slightly, pressing her lips together, her eyes locked on his. “Merry Christmas,” she told him. 

Something around them had shifted, suddenly. This huge thing that had passed after Eichen, this monumental feeling that some line had been inexplicably crossed, when Stiles had clutched her hand and begged her to open her eyes again, when she had told her mother that Stiles had saved her with a feeling in her chest that she was almost certain was love— it suddenly didn’t feel like a hurdle anymore, like something they needed to overcome. Because Lydia was in love with Stiles, she knew. And she might not be ready to tell him that yet, but she thought that maybe he knew. Maybe he knew that she loved him, and maybe he knew that she needed time to figure everything out first. And maybe, just maybe— maybe he loved her too. 

“Merry Christmas,” he echoed, eyes soft, and Lydia hoped more than she’d ever hoped for  _ anything  _ that she was right _.  _

***

About five minutes after all the presents were opened, Malia pulled Scott into the kitchen, her grip on his arm vice-like. 

“It still didn’t work,” Malia whisper-hissed, her brow furrowed angrily. 

“Malia, you know Stiles and Lydia,” Scott said, sighing. “They’re not just going to admit they love each other out of nowhere, even if they  _ do.  _ It’s gonna take time.” 

“How  _ much  _ time?” she replied. Scott shrugged, looking over at the two of them again. Lydia was leafing through the book Stiles had given her, expression still a little amazed, while Stiles watched her with the softest expression Scott had ever seen grace his friend’s face. 

“I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “But we can’t force them. This helped push them together again, but they have to realize for themselves.”

“I still say we lock them in a room together,” Malia added, crossing her arms, her expression unapologetic. 

Scott shook his head. “We are  _ still  _ not locking them in a room together.” 

“What if they never realize?” Malia said. “What if we have to smell them pining for each other for the rest of our  _ lives?” _

Scott shook his head, looking over at them again. The way they gravitated towards each other. The tender expression on Stiles’s face. The look in Lydia’s eyes, completely captivated by the boy in front of her. 

“They’ll figure it out,” Scott assured her, because he was certain that they would. They were meant to be together— they’d get there eventually. “They always do.” 


End file.
